


Ineffably Sentimental

by D20Owlbear



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Available to Podfic, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Intimacy, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other, Prompts Open, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), they're retired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: A tale told in short snippets, each its own look through the window into the daily domesticity of an Angel and a Demon.“So kiss me sweet with your warm wet mouth,Still fragrant with ruby wine,And say with a fervor born of the SouthThat your body and soul are mine.Clasp me close in your warm young arms,While the pale stars shine above,And we’ll live our whole young lives awayIn the joys of a living love.”- "I Love You" by Ella Wheeler WilcoxCurrently taking prompts for short ficlets.





	1. Chair Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night like any other in South Downs, Crowley and Aziraphale exist next to each other like the affectionate saps they are.

Crowley was hunched over in a too-plush chair, shoulders drawn in and eyes focused intensely over the rim of his glasses at the computer on his lap. He wasn’t doing anything particularly extraordinary on it, learning it mostly. 

He had the basics down from growing alongside Warlock and having to help the boy with schoolwork early on as Nanny. It had been useful, of course, kept in contact via email - somewhat impersonal, sure, but it was better than no contact at all. And now he didn’t even have to try to tempt the child into being selfish, not that he necessarily stopped - the boy ended up (after growing out of being a rather dreadful teenager, not the Crowley blamed him) being a bit too open-hearted and didn’t often pay enough attention to his own energy levels-

His hands stopped wandering the keyboard when soft lips gently kissed at his neck. Crowley tensed, not wanting to move and ruin it as Aziraphale pressed tender tokens of love into his skin. As soon as the angel made to pull away, Crowley melted back against the chair and lolled his head to the side, grinning like a sop. Aziraphale laughed quietly to himself, never quite getting over being entirely chuffed that the demon sought out his affections, and quickly gave into the silent request, kissing the demon’s lips just as delicately. He smiled, joy suffused his body, emanating from the area in his chest near his heart, where the divine love all angels were made with, sat bundled up. He moved to return to his seat and book but sighed fondly when Crowley turned his head to watch him with puppy-dog eyes - if eyes with slit pupils could ever be called such, surely Crowley would manage to pull them off.

The angel leaned down again to kiss Crowley again, the hair directly atop the crown of his head brushing against Aziraphale’s vest and his skull resting on the back of the chair as he strained backward to meet the kiss as properly as one could be expected to do while upside-down. A small, indulgent smile remained on Aziraphale’s face as he pulled back, sighing again in fond exasperation as he was followed by Crowley who’s lips remained pressed into what could generously be called a pout. He leaned in again and peppered small, laughing kisses across Crowley’s face, slowly backing off, seeing just how far the demon would let him go.

“Ngk!” Crowley hissed, unbending himself and hunching forward again with a grimace.

“Are you alright, my dear?”

“Yeah, ‘s fine, Angel.” He grumbled, rubbing at his throat, “Over-extended.” Forgot he didn’t quite have the ability in this form to bend across the back of a chair the way he had and pulled on a suitable grimace and sneer when his angel laughed at him good-naturedly until he couldn’t help the smile that fought its way back onto his face.

“Oh, Crowley, what will we do with you?” Aziraphale sighed happily, bending down once more to press one last kiss, for the time being, onto Crowley’s throat and swiftly removed himself back to his own chair to read again, throwing a bright and cheery smile over his shoulder.

Their home was warm and everything settled softly under a blanket of just so, and the whole place felt like _I love you_ in whatever secret language I love you’s lived in.


	2. Let Me Love You In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My dear, let me love you." - Aziraphale, an angel of love and compassion but also sweet somethings because, to him, Crowley deserved far more than nothings

Aziraphale shuddered at the bright gold look Crowley sent him, heated and molten with barely hidden want and oh how did he miss this for so long? Think it was some forbidden friendship when these aspects of desire last so bare before him? 

"My dear," he breathed as easily as benediction, hands cupping sharp jawline so gently the searing eyes fluttered shut to lean into his touch, as if afraid he wasn't really there at all. 

But no, the angel was here, made of good things like loyalty and faithfulness and steadfastness and stubborn enough he'd never leave. This was good, he looked upon this creature of ostensible darkness and destruction and found him to be Good, and so he did as he ought. He stayed and protected and nurtured what good he found and watched it flourish from the soft, gentle space he cherished within the walls of the heart he'd been gifted. 

"My dear, let me love you." He asked this permission not because it was needed, but to be assured that this tall Duke of limbs knew the love for him was there, that Aziraphale would love him if only he let him. And, truly, even if he wasn't allowed he could scarcely stop loving him. "Let me love you in the dark when you feel alone, and let me love you in the evening when you're weary, and let me love you in the afternoon when you lay your head in my lap, and let me love you in the morning amongst your jungle of plants. Let me love you in the night under all the phases of the moon and witnessed by all the celestial bodies that watch over Earth. Let me love you, Crowley, and I will happily love you forever."

His heart felt like it might stop or beat so hard it'd fall out of his chest, but maybe that would be for the best, so Crowley could take it and hold it and see how much of it had his name inscribed into all the deepest parts of it. But it did none of these and Crowley said nothing for too many moments but it all felt like some monumental shift was waiting to happen like the breath before the first pronouncement of "let there be light." 

"Of- of course, Angel," Crowley breathed, eyes shining with tears of relief and joy and disbelief that he shouldn't have been able to produce in the first place from snake eyes, "Always."


	3. Braids– Flower Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part one of ??, a prompt: "Crowley starts growing his hair out again, and Aziraphale really wants to learn how to braid it, but he can't just say he wants to braid Crowley's hair, they don't do that (yet), so he starts figuring out all these convoluted ways to convince Crowley to teach him"
> 
> The original chapter 3, per summary above, has been moved to its own story here: [That Spiderman is a Menace!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445123)

Crowley’s brow was furrowed in concentration as he braided stems of clover flowers picked in a wide open field not too far from the South Downs cottage. Sometimes, when his terror vibrated through his body even when there wasn’t anything nearby to be afraid of and his thoughts wrapped up in on themselves and knotted until the threads broke and frayed, he fled walls that closed in on him in favor of boundless skies and fields. He felt safer, in places so different from Hell, where he could see anything and everything for what felt like miles in every direction and could feel the vibrations of the Earth beneath his back as he lay in piles of soft clover. 

“My dear boy,” Crowley breathed in deeply, lips parted just barely to take in scents better at the roof of his mouth, not frightened enough to jump by the voice he knew in his bones, that echoed in his soul, sounded behind him. “Oh, I didn’t realize you know how to braid.” Aziraphale’s voice was light and interested, surprise entirely manufactured to give himself some sort of edge. He’d been watching Crowley start to grow out his hair again and, now that he’d be allowed to, knew he was able to touch, his fingers twitched at the thought of adding braids into wine-red hair though he wasn’t sure how to go about actually knotting the braids themselves. 

"Yeah, 's nothing, something I picked up." Crowley deflected, putting the unfinished crown aside and looking up at Aziraphale. "Needed something, Angel?" 

"No," he wouldn't ask about the braiding, maybe when Crowley's hair was long enough to work his fingers through properly. The color was fantastic, Aziraphale had always admired it, like the last flash of red in a sunset before the purples and blues of night took hold of the sky. Made him think of rich red wines and laughter long into the night, and an immeasurably fond smile fell across his lips as he watched Crowley, who was starting to squirm just a little under the angel’s gaze.

“How about a picnic, my dear?” Crowley nodded, sighing when Aziraphale's eyes turned back to the cottage and he hoisted himself from the heath around the cottage, transplanted carefully from the heathlands and the Serpent's trail within.


	4. Among Heath and Hearth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cold night spent inside is just as good as any night out. Crowley and Aziraphale happen to fall in love at the simplest of things, and that's alright by them.

A low hiss sounded from the lumpy blanket pile on the floor near the fire stoked in the fireplace. Aziraphale looked over the top of his book, a bit surprised to see there was a fire and just  _ when _ had it gotten that dark out? He frowned lightly and set his book to the side, bookmark miraculously in place, and moved to kneel down next to the lump of blankets.

“Crowley?” He asked gently, poking at where he thought the demon’s shoulder was at, only to feel the smooth curve of muscle rather than the sharper planes of shoulder blade. Aziraphale sighed softly, fondness overcoming him as he reached over and stoked the fire a little higher and adjusted the ambient temperature of the room as a whole. The soapstone they’d changed the hearth into not too long ago was radiating a pleasant heat when he checked it with his palm, and once all that had been taken care of Aziraphale unraveled the blankets.

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale murmured with a gentle smile as black scales were revealed. “Isn’t it colder like this?” It took a little bit of doing and unlooping of heavy coils as thick as his neck from around each other to dig out Crowley’s head, which looked far too lazy and pleased with himself to be a properly animal snake. It made sense, considering he was a properly demon snake, that he could look and feel so different from a simple animal.

_ Noo _ , Crowley hissed in that snake-way of his, not quite words and not quite thoughts, but a melding of the two.  _ You’re here. _

Aziraphale fell in love a little bit again at that. Crowley did too when the angel hefted Crowley’s not inconsiderable weight up into his thick arms and carried him back to the sofa. The heather plucked from outside wafted a sweet, mossy scent in their wake as they passed by in a waft of warm air following them. 

“There, you’ll simply have to keep me warm, then.” Aziraphale laid back on the sofa, wiggled a little to make himself properly comfortable, and let Crowley stretch out and drape his vast length along his angel’s body. It felt similar to a weighted blanket, and Aziraphale never felt so safe and secure as he did weighed down by his spouse’s body. 

Ah, surely this was heaven. 


End file.
